We Might As Well Be Strangers
by a.k.a.-ashley
Summary: After a tragic accident takes a piece of him, Peyton gets a chance for a fresh start.
1. Chapter 1

**We Might As Well Be Strangers**

**Chapter 1**

**A/N: This one is going to be a few chapters. The pacing on this one feels off to me but I can't rewrite it again.**

* * *

"Marry me." He says one night as they're curled together under the sheets in the bedroom of her small apartment.

She's lying on her side with her back to him, and it's a full thirty seconds before she rolls onto her back and asks him to repeat his question although she heard him the first time. He repeats his question and she stays in her position and stares at the ceiling for another beat until she lets out a loud sigh.

"I don't want to do this tonight Lucas." She braces herself for the fight that is about to come.

"Do what, propose to my girlfriend?" He's angry now and she can sense it, as he sits up suddenly in bed.

"Lucas I don't want to get married. And you've known this since we were teenagers, nothing about that has changed."

"I thought I might have changed that."

They'd broken up during college, both of them not wanting the stress of having a long-distance relationship. After they both graduated and made their way back to Tree Hill they rekindled things almost immediately. Although they'd been back together for almost two years they still didn't live together, though the subject had been brought up (mainly by Lucas). Not much had changed when it came to Peyton and her fear of commitment, and Lucas' frustration with that fact had only increased.

"You haven't changed my mind." She stares down at her wringing hands and feels sorry for him, though she know he doesn't want her pity especially now. "What's wrong with the way things are now?"

"I don't want to just be your boyfriend, I want something more."

"And I told you that I'm not ready for that yet." As she reaches out to touch his arm he pulls away and grabs his shirt from the floor. "Lucas, can we not do this tonight, not again."

He pulls on the jeans that she had pulled off only hours earlier when they had stumbled into the apartment after a late night date and buttons them in haste. He finds his shoes near the dresser and quickly ties them with his back to her. "I don't think I can do this anymore Peyton."

"What are you talking about?"

"I used to tell myself that I would wait as long as it took for you to get your stuff straightened out, but now I'm not so sure anymore. I need a break from this." He finishes dressing and stands near the foot of her bed not entirely sure what his next step will be.

"So this it? You're leaving after all that we've been through because I won't marry you?" she tries to sound angry but the noticeable shake in her voice gives away true feelings.

"I'm sorry Peyton."

She cuts him off before he can finish. "Just get out." When he continues to linger by the foot of the bed, she yells at him one final time telling him to get the hell out of her apartment. He gets the message and leaves, slamming the front door loudly behind him.

She falls asleep after thirty minutes of staring at the bedroom ceiling, fighting back the angry tears that threaten to fall and ruin her Teflon façade. The phone call comes a few minutes after she shuts her eyes. Even through the haze of being fresh from sleep she recognizes Karen's voice, the older woman is panicked and talking too quickly to comprehend. Peyton begs her to slow down. She can make out certain words; car crash, hospital, Lucas. It's all she needs to hear before she tears out of bed, dresses as quickly as she can and runs out of her apartment.

The hospital emergency room is chaotic, even at one o'clock in the morning. As she bursts through the painfully slow moving sliding glass doors she nearly runs straight into a man dripping blood from a large gash near his eyebrow onto his crisp white dress shirt. A young girl sitting in a section of chairs is vomiting into a plastic basin and her mom rubs gently at her back while yelling at a nearby nurse.

Somehow Peyton manages to find Karen amongst the crowd and immediately begins questioning her about what's happened. The gaps of information that had been missing from Karen's initial phone call were quickly filled in. The battery is his car must have died while he was out on the road, it had happened a few times before and she'd told him a dozen time to replace it. He was struck from the side as he was checking under the hood of the car and he smashed his head on the windshield of the car. The driver of the car called an ambulance and he was rushed to the hospital and taken right into surgery.

"How long has he been up there?" She asks nervously.

"About an hour." Karen says quietly.

They sit nervously in the third floor surgical waiting room, all wringing hands and impatient shifting. When a doctor came in an hour later the front of his dull blue scrubs were dabbled with small drops of crimson red blood, Lucas' blood, he tells them the news they've been waiting to hear. Lucas is out of surgery.

They wait another three hours so they can see him for ten minutes. When they slip into his room his head is wrapped in a large halo of white gauze and there are various tubes coming from his arms and nose. His face is swollen and a large gash runs down his cheek. The man Peyton had seen only hours earlier is now barely recognizable. Peyton doesn't cry, she just stands in shock unable to move. As her eyes scan over his broken body she knows that he is in this bed because of her and what she did to him.

He's in a coma, the doctors tell the two anxious women that he will come out of it but it is going to take some time. They spend three days by his side waiting, sometimes impatiently, for him to wake up. On the fourth day Peyton is holding his hand in hers and she feels him squeeze once, and then again. Doctors are called and they all wait anxiously for him to finally open his eyes. When he does there is an audible sigh of relief that echoes through the room. His eyes scan the room and he smiles when he spots Karen, she moves closer to his bed and kisses him on the forehead. When Peyton moves closer to him a blank stare comes across his face, she notices it and stops her forward movement.

"Who are you?" He asks, and Peyton can feel the blood drain from her face.


	2. Chapter 2

**We Might As Well Be Strangers**

**A/N: The response to the first chapter of this was amazing, thank you all so much for your reviews. And, I'm not a doctor.**

**Chapter 2**

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In the small hallway outside of his recovery room there is a flurry of frantic activity. Karen is peppering a doctor with question after question and he's trying his best to answer them without scaring the woman anymore. Two doctors are scanning a series of brain scans on a light table on the wall and talking as quickly as Karen. Peyton separates herself from the chaos as she leans the back of her head against the cold, sterile walls a few feet away from Karen.

She hasn't said a word since it happened, since the most important person in her life woke up with no recollection of who she was. It's all too much for her and she feels like she just wants to run away, to forget everything that has gone wrong in the past twenty-four hours. And she thinks that she just might do it if only she had the energy. But she remembers that the only reason he is in that damn bed is because of her and she knows she has to stay.

She hears Karen ask a question about how long his amnesia will last and Peyton moves from her position along the wall to a space near the older woman so she can hear what the doctor has to say.

The doctor's words don't bring much relief. "Due to the trauma to a specific area of his brain, I'm afraid what we're looking at is retrograde amnesia."

"What does that mean?" Peyton asks calmly.

"Based on the fact that Lucas can remember his mother but not you Ms. Sawyer, we can assume that he's lost at least the last ten years of his memory. He won't remember anyone or anything from this period of time."

"How long will it take him to regain his memory?"

The doctor takes a pregnant pause and looks a little uneasy at the information he is about to share. "Unfortunately with Lucas' condition regaining full memory is very rare. More than likely Lucas will never remember the last ten years that he's lost."

Peyton nods her head in silent acknowledgement but she feels like she's dying inside. When he hadn't remembered her she held on to the hope that it would all eventually return, now that hope was gone. He won't ever remember her and the years they have spent together. She is a stranger to him.

Karen wraps a comforting arm around Peyton's shoulders and tells her how sorry she is. The younger woman attempts a smile and quietly excuses herself before she heads away from the group. She needs to be alone if not for a few minutes to process everything.

She winds up on a bench just outside of the emergency room doors with a cup of stale, hospital cafeteria coffee burning the inside of her palms. It's a chilly night and goose bumps decorate her bare arms. She sips gingerly from the cup and mulls over the options she has.

Hours earlier she had driven him away and he had walked out of her life, whether it was a permanent decision she would most likely never know, but know she had a tricky set of decisions. Karen doesn't know about their breakup and Lucas doesn't remember, she could walk away from it all without hurting anyone. But the terror she felt while waiting for word on his condition, that horrible pit in the bottom of her stomach while she paced the halls of the hospital, the relief that came with knowing he was alright, those are feelings she can't forget. She knows she loves him and she wishes now that she would have said it more often because it won't mean anything to him now.

Suddenly it's as if the clichéd light bulb has gone off over her head. She has the opportunity to walk away but she doesn't want it. She wants the opportunity to start over with him, to redeem herself for the pain she caused him. She wants to be with the man who doesn't remember her, because she remembers who he used to be. She's not going to run again. She stands from the bench like a woman on a mission and tosses the full coffee cup into the nearby garbage before heading back upstairs.

She finds his doctor talking with another man in a long white coat and the doctor excuses himself from the conversation and walks over to her.

"Alright doc, how is this going to work with me and him? I still love him and this amnesia isn't going to stop that."

"If you want to associate yourself back into Lucas' life your only choice at the moment is to start fresh. He's going to have to fall in love with you all over again, but I have to warn you that with such a large chunk of his memory gone there is a possibility that he won't be the same Lucas you knew before. There are no guarantees with amnesia."

"I understand." She nods in acknowledgement.

"Don't try and force the memory to come back. Trying to use triggers, like photographs and stories, to early can sometimes suppress those memories even more. Just be patient, memory recovery is rare but I have seen it happen and it took years for it to come back."

"Would it be okay if I went in and saw him, just for a few minutes."

"He's asleep, but you can go in for few minutes." The doctor gives her a sad smile, knowing full well the struggles she will endure.

She slips into his room as quietly as she can, the last thing she wants to do is have him wake up to a strange face. The room is quiet with only the reassuring beep of his heart monitor making any noise. He looks physically broken with the cuts on his face, the bandage on his head, plus his left arm and leg are wrapped in a cast. She doesn't know where to touch him without hurting him, so she holds tightly onto his hand and whispers that she loves him before leaving his room and heading back to her lonely apartment.


	3. Chapter 3

**We Might As Well Be Strangers**

**Chapter 3**

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She tosses and turns in bed for hours when she finally makes it home from the hospital. Each time she closes her eyes she sees him staring at her with blank eyes having no idea who she is, and each time she opens her eyes she sees that he isn't laying next to her in the spot where he's supposed to be.

When she grows tired of losing the sleep game she crawls out of bed and slips down the hallway towards the kitchen. There's an old bottle of vodka in the freezer and when she pulls it out of its icy home the frost that covers it stings her fingertips. She doesn't plan on drowning her sorrows; she just needs something to calm her frayed nerves. The chill of the vodka doesn't do much to calm the burn and she winces as she swallows the liquid. She continues to sip gingerly from the glass as she heads over to the sofa in the tiny living room. There's nothing on the television which is no surprise given the time, but she continues to flip through the channels aimlessly because it takes her mind off of everything.

She thinks about calling Haley. She can't remember whether or not Karen has called to let her know of what's happened. Haley's in New York making demo tapes and playing sets in smoky clubs, Peyton hasn't talked to her in weeks. She checks the clock on the wall and wonders if Haley's asleep or just getting off a gig. She picks up the phone and dials the familiar number, Haley answers on the first ring and she sounds wide-awake.

"Its me." Peyton says after Haley's said hello.

"Peyton how are you?" Haley's voice is instantly full of concern. "I haven't been able to get a hold of you, I figured you were at the hospital."

"I don't know if I can do this Hales." Her voice starts to shake and this isn't what she wanted to happen.

"You can't do what Peyt?"

"I can't pretend everything is alright. Lucas has no idea who I am. He doesn't remember the last two years we've spent together or the years in high school, it's all gone. And I had myself convinced that I could do this, that I could accept that he would never remember what we had and he could fall back in love with me somehow. But what if he's different, what if he can't love me again, what if I lose him all over again?"

"Peyton you have to slow down because this isn't going to help you." Haley says gently. It's obvious that her friend is hurting.

"I'm scared Haley." She says softly.

"I know you are Peyton, and I'm flying back tomorrow to be with you and Karen, but I think you should go see Lucas. Tell him you're an old friend from high school, make a connection with him, make yourself a part of his life all over again."

Haley's words continue to spin through her head as she makes her way up to the hospital doors. She wonders if those spinning thoughts in her head are what're making her stomach queasy and her hands shake but she doubts it.

The walk up to his hospital room seems to take hours; her unusually slow pace doesn't help the situation. She knows it's absurd for her to be this nervous seeing a man that she has kissed hundreds of times, that she's seen him naked just as many. She forgets that he's not that man anymore.

She's scared as her hand hovers over the doorknob to his room. She still has no idea what she's going to say to him even as she pushes open the door and knocks lightly announcing her presence.

When she walks into the room it's nearly dark. The curtain around his bed is pulled across the window blocking any sunlight. His head is still wrapped with white gauze and his shoulder is in a sling that's strapped tightly around his midsection. When he looks up towards the door she sees the deep purple bruises along the side of his face and it nearly makes her cringe.

"Hi." She says softly. He continues to stare at her. "I'm not sure if you remember me from last night."

"You were here with my mom." His voice is raspy and she can barely hear him, but when she does it's the best sound she's heard in a long time.

"Yeah," she answers, "that was me."

"I'm sorry that I don't remember you, the doctor says I have a problem with my memory because of an accident I was in. Did I know you before this happened?"

"We sort of knew each other from high school, I think we had an English class together during freshman year. Anyways your mom and I are close and she told me what had happened, I just wanted to make sure you were okay." She starts to move closer to his bed feeling that things are going better than she had planned.

"So, what's your name?" he asks with a smile, and she realizes that he doesn't even remember that little detail.

"It's Peyton." She returns his smile and finally works up the courage to sit in the chair next to his bed.

She can tell by his face that he's searching for something and then he looks up at her through squinted eyes. "Peyton Sawyer, right?"

"You remember me?" she can't help but smile again. She's never been so happy to have someone remember her last name.

"I remember the name and the curls and that you did an English report on Joey Ramone, but I can't remember anything else." He tries to stifle a sudden yawn but she catches it.

"I should get going, let you get your rest." She stands from the chair but his words stop her.

"Wait, do you have to go?" he reaches his hand out and grabs her gently by the wrist, his touch sends a trail of goose bumps up her arm.

"You should sleep." She encourages.

"I realize this may be a weird request, since we don't know each other all that well but I'd like it if you came by again. It's nice having someone to talk to that isn't a doctor. I'd understand if you have work or a husband or whatever."

"Work, yes. Husband, no." A sad smile slips across her face.

"So you'll come by again?" He looks hopeful.

"I'd like that." She waves goodbye before slipping out of the door. Once outside of his hospital room she puts her back to the wall and slides down to the ground. She doesn't cry because she won't let herself. She's done what she came to do; she made a connection with him. That's good enough for now. She'll start again in the morning as his old friend from high school because it's all she has.


	4. Chapter 4

**We Might As Well Be Strangers**

**Chapter 4**

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Haley's plane arrived hours earlier and Peyton was there to meet her best friend with open arms. The two women had dinner with Karen before heading back to Peyton's place. After helping Haley get settled in to the extra bedroom the pair move out onto the deck chairs of the small balcony.

The two are bundled up in coats and are sharing a blanket to protect them from the chill of the night air. They each nurse a bottle of beer as they lounge back and stare out at the lights below the apartment.

"Normal people would probably be sitting inside next to the fireplace right now." Peyton says as she breathes into her cupped hands.

"No, normal people would be drinking coffee instead of cold beer." She ignores the look Peyton gives her. "Besides, you can't find this in New York."

"What can't you find?"

"The quiet." Haley breathes in deep. "And the fresh air, that's good too."

Peyton grins at her friend and sips from her bottle. "I'm trying to remember the last time the three of us were all together."

Haley thinks for a minute and then starts to laugh. "How can you not remember drunk karaoke night at The Tavern?"

Peyton nearly spits a mouthful of beer onto her lap as she starts to flashback to the night Haley is talking about. "I can't believe I forgot that night. Lucas sang 'Open Arms' for God's sake."

"Watching a drunk guy serenade his equally drunk girlfriend with a cover of a Journey song was the greatest thing I've ever seen."

Peyton starts to laugh hysterically and in between breaths she manages to remind Haley of him nearly falling into the fountain outside the bar, which gets Haley going even more. The two of them end up with tears streaming down their faces as they clutch their sides.

"Karen seemed like she was doing good tonight at dinner." Haley rolls a bottle cap in between her fingers before throwing it from the balcony onto the street below.

"Well Lucas did wake up and remember who she was, so I'd say she's ahead of the game."

"Ouch Peyton."

"I didn't mean for it to come out like that, I'm just having a shitty time with all of this still." She absentmindedly peels the label from her bottle and drops the pieces of paper onto the floor.

"How did things go with Lucas today, did you have any luck?"

Peyton's mood visually lifts when her day with Lucas is brought up. "It was good. He remembered a few very minor details from when we were freshmen but I did what you said and tried to make a connection with him. I think it worked. We talked for a little bit and he asked if I could come by again to visit."

"That's good Peyt, it's really good."

"It just felt weird telling him we didn't know each other. I don't like lying to him."

"Well it's not really lying if it's doctor's orders." Haley smiles.

Peyton nods and finishes the last of her beer. "Well, I'm going to bed. Am I still driving you to the hospital in the morning?"

"That's the plan."

"Goodnight Hales." She rolls up her blanket and slips in through the screen door. Haley watches her go before she turns and stares back out over the lights.

A sky full of gray clouds and a thick layer of frost on their windshield greets them the next morning as they leave Peyton's apartment. It isn't the ideal way to start out the day and she curses under her breath as she pulls her platinum card from her wallet and scrapes away the offending ice. Haley decides to be invisible as possible and slides into the passenger seat of the new BMW.

"I take it the club is doing well." Haley says as she runs her fingers along the black leather of the seats.

"We've had two very good years and I splurged a little. I should have put the money towards the loft but I really, really like this car." She smiles and backs out of her parking spot.

She drops Haley off at the front entrance to the hospital and after assuring her that she should go up and see Lucas alone, Peyton drives off with a wave.

She drives around for nearly an hour and listens to an old Iron and Wine album before she finally picks a destination. The old bookstore looks like it hasn't changed since they were in high school. Stacks of books clutter the walkways and if there was a system to the shelving it has long since been abandoned, which makes her search all the more difficult. Tiny particles of dust float around in the air and become more noticeable when what little sunlight there is beams through the window. She wanders the aisles in search of a particular book. A gruff, old voice from the back of the store startles her. When she peers around the corner she sees an older man with stark white hair and a pair of reading glasses perched on the end of his nose.

"Can I help you find something?" he asks after clearing his throat.

"I'm looking for a book called The Memory of Elephants." She starts to tell him the author but the old man waves her off and disappears behind a large stack of books. He's gone for minutes and she's tempted to follow him and make sure he hasn't fallen asleep or fallen over, but he reappears after a few more minutes with a thick paperback covered in a layer of dust.

"I could tell you the location of every book in this store." He leans his face close to the cover and blows, sending dust flying everywhere. "I'm just too damn old to spend my time shelving and organizing everything."

He hands the book over to Peyton. It's heavy in her hands and the pages have only slightly begun to turn yellow. She fans the pages and the smell of old books and history fill her nose.

"I've had that book in the back for years and not a single soul has ever asked me about it. It's an interesting choice."

"Unfortunately it fits with an interesting situation." She hands the book back over to the old man. "I'll take it."

* * *

_The book does have a purpose, it's just not in this chapter. Thanks for reading._


	5. Chapter 5

**We Might As Well Be Strangers**

**Chapter 5**

The next two weeks pass by as slowly as possible. The cuts and gashes that covered the side of his face are starting to heal and the large purple bruise on his cheek is now a spiteful, dark yellow mark. His head is still wrapped in the white gauze but she's seen the surgical scar when the nurse changed his dressing and it looks better than she had imagined.

She has spent nearly every day with him in some way or another. He doesn't seem to mind her constant presence and Karen makes sure to send her with some decent food from the café for him so she always has a reason to be with him. There are times when they are sitting together and talking and laughing that she can almost forget he has no memory of her and it all feels normal again. She finds some sort of humor and a little irony in the fact that his physical wounds are healing at the same time as her internal ones.

She raps on the door to his hospital room and gives a little wave when he looks up at her from his bed. He's propped up on a few dozen pillows flipping aimlessly through the television channels with a hospital tray in front of him full of something that resembles chicken and bright red jello.

"Your mom packed this for you." She smiles at the look of relief on his face when she holds up a brown paper bag from the restaurant. She takes up her seat in her usual chair and hands over the bag, which he tears open with as much fervor as a kid opening his birthday present.

As he devours his turkey sandwich she flips through a magazine that she's left on his side table the last time she visited. He swallows his last bite and follows it with a huge swig of water.

"Do they not feed you in this place?" she smiles at him from over the rim of her magazine.

"Did you not see the chicken surprise over there? And believe me when I say, man cannot live on jello alone."

Peyton chuckles at his displeasure and reaches down and grabs a bag from near her feet. "I don't want you to think this is weird, but I got you something."

He takes the heavy bag from her outstretched hands and looks at her through narrowed and curious eyes. "You got me a present?"

"Just open it."

He digs into the small gift bag and pulls out the old hardcover book she'd purchased at the bookstore weeks earlier. He runs his fingers over the gold embossed letters and says the title slowly out loud. "What's it about?"

"There's this guy named Homi, he's this genius from Bombay who creates this time machine that scans his brain for memories of his first love after he loses her." The parallels of her own life and the book are fresh in her mind as she watches him flip through the yellowed pages. "It's a first edition print so I don't want you thinking I just got you some foul-smelling old book."

"No it's great, I love it. I've been so bored watching television all day so this is perfect. Thank you Peyton."

"You're welcome." She smiles sweetly at him. "How's the leg feeling?" She asks pointing at the large white cast that wraps up his leg to the spot just above his knee. His femur was virtually shattered from the impact of the car and he'd already had two surgeries to try and repair the damage, but the doctors had told her he'd need months of physical therapy to fully recover.

"The leg is good." He says as he reaches down and raps lightly on the white shell. "It's the pins holding my leg together that tend to hurt like hell."

"That's the funny thing about titanium rods, they weren't designed for comfort." They both chuckle and fall into a nervous silence that seems to make the room feel smaller, it's only been three weeks but Peyton is sure she can feel a connection starting to grow.

"So I have this nurse who comes in and pushes me down the hall in a wheelchair so I can get out of bed but she's kind of mean and always smells like stale coffee, so I was wondering if you don't have anywhere to be just now if you might want to go for a walk or something." She can tell he's nervous because he's tugging gently on his right earlobe, which is something he's always done, and she almost cries when she sees him do it. Even without his memory, seeing that familiar mannerism makes him seem like Lucas again.

"I would love to." She looks up to see if he's noticed the slight waver in her voice, but he's too busy paging the nurse with a huge grin on his face.

The hallway of his recovery unit is so quiet and empty that she can hear the oversized rubber wheels from his wheelchair sticking slightly to the freshly scrubbed linoleum floors. He gives her directions as she pushes the chair, he has a spot he wants her to see. She nearly clips a corner with the bulky wheelchair and he inhales sharply through his teeth as his cast-covered leg comes uncomfortably close to the wall and they both laugh.

It's the little things they used to share together, laughter or silly conversation about nothing of great importance that make her miss him the most. They had more than their share of problems before his accident but it was the little things kept them normal and sane. She misses that, misses him.

They come to the spot he requested and she's amazed by what she sees. Hidden in a corner on his quiet floor is a small waiting area with an enormous picture window that overlooks a field of tall, green grass that seems to go on for miles. The afternoon sun has begun to disappear behind a group of tall trees and the light casts an orange glow over the otherwise bland white walls of the room.

"This is my favorite spot in the hospital." He says as he stares out over the field. She turns to look at him and his face is covered in the orange light, which makes his bruises, and cuts disappear. He looks tanned and healthy, minus the thick white band wrapped around his forehead.

"It's amazing." She says still staring at him.

They sit in amicable silence as the sun dips down lower and eventually disappears, revealing a night sky littered with glowing stars.

He leans over and looks at her for a moment before he speaks. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Don't take this the wrong way because these last two weeks we've spent getting to know each other have been great, but I'm just curious as to why you've spent so much time here with me."

There are plenty of lies she could tell him in place of the truth, it isn't like he would know one way or another but she just doesn't want to lie anymore, not about this.

"I lost somebody once, around the same time of your accident. He was the most important person in the world to me and I let him go. You remind me of him." She can't look at him while she talks, afraid that she'll break if he looks at her.

"Did you love him?"

She nods silently. "More than I think he ever knew."

He can't find the right thing to say after her admission, he doesn't even know if there is a right thing to say, so he says nothing at all and just quietly takes her hand in his and gives it a gentle squeeze. The light from the glowing moon catches on a single tear that slides down her cheek and he squeezes a little tighter.


	6. Chapter 6

**We Might As Well Be Strangers**

**Chapter 6**

One of the perks of owning a club is that most of the work happens after dark which means that usually Peyton can sleep in as late as she wants, usually. It's ten in the morning and she's running late for the shipment that's supposed to arrive in ten minutes and she can't find her left shoe or her car keys.

Her apartment's been a bit of a mess lately. Between the hospital and the late nights at work she doesn't have a lot of time left for housekeeping, or cooking for that matter. Take out containers have filled her trashcan and the only thing in her fridge is two bottles of water and some ketchup.

She's searching under the bed for her shoe when the phone rings. She answers it on the third ring. It's Karen.

"Peyton, I'm glad I caught you. Do you have a minute?" Karen's voice sounds strained.

"Uh, sure." She gives up her search for the missing shoe and sits on the bed, glancing quickly at her watch.

"Lucas had his first round of physical therapy this morning and it didn't go very well. He's really down and I think this whole thing is starting to catch up with him. He won't talk to anyone, but I was hoping he might talk to you. I know you guys have been doing good."

"I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Thank you Peyton."

"You don't have to thank me Karen, I love him. I would do anything for him."

They hang up a few minutes later and Peyton quickly dials another number. "Travis this is Peyton, I need you to get to the club and open the back doors and sign for the shipment that's coming in. I'll be in late."

Peyton waits outside the door to his hospital room and she can hear him cursing under his breath at something. She hasn't seen him angry since he woke up after the accident and she wonders what he's going to be like before she pushes open the door.

She steps quietly into the room and when he looks up she says "Hey." And gives him a slight wave.

He doesn't say anything and just goes back to his unsuccessful attempt at shaving. He's got part of his face covered in white foam and he's trying to shave with the arm that isn't wrapped in a cast and strapped to his chest. Karen had told her that after the incident in physical therapy he had refused any of the nurse's help.

Given his cold greeting she's unsure of what he'll say when she crosses the room but he doesn't even bother to look up.

"Do you need any help with that?"

"I don't need help, not from you or from the nurses or from my mom. So just leave me the hell alone, alright?" His voice is cold and hollow and his words sting. She doesn't say anything to him, just turns and heads for the door.

"Peyton, wait." He stops her just as she reaches the heavy, hospital door. "I need help."

She wordlessly makes her way back to his bed. He holds out the razor with a look of helpless defeat and she takes it slowly from his hand. With slow, careful movements he slides himself over and she props herself up on the edge of the bed.

They don't meet eyes while she lathers the shaving cream in her hands and then covers his rough cheeks with the foam. She has plenty of experience in the art of shaving a man's face, it had become routine for them before things had gone to hell. They would sleep in late on Sunday mornings and lay in bed listening to music. When they would finally crawl out of bed Peyton would prop herself up on the bathroom counter and shave his face with her legs wrapped firmly around his waist. It never failed to start something that would lead them right back to bed for hours until the morning had turned into late afternoon.

It isn't until she starts to drag the razor over the gentle slopes of his face that he finally breaks the silence.

"Thank you for doing this." His voice is smaller than it has been in weeks and she can tell that he's having a bad day.

"I'm actually a little honored that I'm the one who gets to shave you seeing as how you've kicked out every other person who's tried to help you this morning." She smiles in an attempt to get him to do the same.

He doesn't smile, just focuses forward as Peyton adjusts the angle of his face so she can reach under his chin. "I fell in physical therapy today." He says abruptly.

She doesn't respond because she doesn't know what to say.

He continues talking without looking at her. "All I had to do was take five steps holding onto a damn bar and I didn't make two. Every time I stepped down on my leg it felt like a million razor blades where being jammed into my muscles, I just couldn't handle the pain."

"Is that what you're so down about? Because Lucas you have to realize that it's going to take time for your leg to heal." She takes a moment to rinse the razor in the small tub of water near the side of his bed before she starts on the other side of his face.

"It isn't just that. I woke up this morning and it felt like everything that has happened is starting to catch up with me. The last ten years of my life are gone, I can't remember my graduation or if I went to college or if I ever loved anyone. A huge chunk of my life is gone and I'm laid up in a hospital bed with a nurse who cuts my food and helps me to the bathroom. I think I'd be better off dead."

It isn't until he says those last words that Peyton nearly explodes in anger. She tosses the razor into the bucket and slams it onto the nightstand near his bed; foamy water splashes over the sides onto the floor. He looks up at her in shock.

"Don't ever say that you'd rather be dead Lucas, not when there are so many people who care about you and would have been lost if you had died that night. That's the most selfish thing I've ever heard anyone say." She feels her cheeks flush red with anger. "So you lost ten years of your memory, you have to move on and make new ones and that might now be the easiest thing but this isn't easy for anyone." She gets up from the bed and turns her back to him and wipes angrily at the falling tears that stain her cheeks. She's tired of being so emotional and she wishes the goddamn tears would just stop coming.

He doesn't really understand her reaction to what he had said, for a girl who didn't really know him seven weeks earlier she seemed to be devastated when he'd said that crack about being dead. He hadn't really meant to say it out loud but all of his anger had boiled to the surface and it slipped. And now he's made this girl that he really cares about cry and it makes him feel horrible.

"Peyton, I'm sorry." He reaches out with his good arm and tugs gently on her wrist, willing her to turn back around, which she does. He wipes roughly at her tears not having much skill at comforting women. "Please don't cry. I didn't mean what I said. You were right, I was being selfish and stupid. I'm so sorry."

Peyton can tell he's scrambling to find the right thing to say and the entire time she's watching him apologize all she can think of is how whatever she is feeling it's always going to be worse for him. Even when things were normal between them she never could stay mad at him for long, and she can't now.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you to not piss of the person who is holding a razor dangerously close to your neck." She wipes quickly at her eyes with a calm smile on her face before she grabs a towel and wipes away the excess shaving cream from cheeks.

"Peyton I really am sorry."

"And so am I." She reaches over and hands him a small mirror so he can approve the job she's done. He runs his hands over his freshly shaved cheeks and gives her a thumbs up.

Without realizing what she's doing she leans over and kisses him on the cheek. "I have to get to work, I'll see you later tonight."

He waves goodbye and pulls his book from the table near him and begins to read with a grin plastered onto his face. It's the first time he's smiled all day.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

* * *

The last week of summer used to bring about a flurry of activity when they were kids. Last minute back to school shopping used to take up their weekends, and the ice cream man would make his final neighborhood passes selling out of dreamsicles and ice cream in the shape of Mickey Mouse. It wasn't like that for them anymore but Lucas had an entirely different reason for being excited about the end of summer.

After six weeks spent laid up in a hospital bed, Lucas' release date is only a day away. He's been counting down the last three weeks with giant red x's through the days on the calendar Peyton bought him after he'd driven her crazy asking how many days were left each time she visited.

All of his cuts and bruises have faded from his face. The only physical reminder of his accident is the small pink scar that cuts slightly across his cheek, and the less visible surgical scar on the side of his head that is hidden by a newly grown patch of hair.

Peyton's relationship with Lucas has grown into a comfortable friendship. She brings her paperwork to the hospital now, finding that the perfect time to balance her books comes just after he's eaten dinner and he decides to crack open whatever book he may be reading that day. He hasn't questioned her about the amount of time she spends up at the hospital with him since the day he took her to his spot in the hospital and she nearly cried.

It's a rare day that she makes it to the hospital before late afternoon, so he's surprised to see her pop her head in before he's even eaten lunch. She has a thick, leather book in her hands and a pen tucked behind her ears. She plops into her usual chair and grins when she finally notices the weird look he's throwing her.

She stares at him a beat longer before finally telling him, "I didn't feel like doing all this paperwork in my office so I brought it here instead."

"So what is it today?'

"Just going over the inventory sheets, ordering product. You know, the really exciting parts about owning your own business."

He hobbles slowly out of bed, grabs his crutches from the side of his bed, and makes his way to the window. It's been raining since the early morning and the town is surrounded by gray storm clouds. It's Lucas' idea of a perfect day, has been since he was a kid.

"Let's get out of here." He says suddenly from his perch near the window.

"And go where?"

"I don't know, anywhere. Look at this day, it's perfect and it would be wrong of us to waste it."

"You know you can't leave the hospital without the doctor's permission?" She says looking up from her stack of paperwork.

"Uh huh, yeah I know that. But I was thinking maybe we could forget about that whole thing."

"So you want me to sneak you out of the hospital?"

Lucas nods his head with a cautious grin on his face.

She narrows her eyes at him for a moment, and then closes her notebook. "I'll go get the car."

He's waiting out front for her on his crutches, nervously looking back over his shoulders, double and triple checking that the nurses haven't caught onto their plan. Peyton watches this play out with a bit of amusement, since she made arrangements with his nurse on her way out to her car.

She pulls her car quickly to a stop in front of him, just to keep the charade going, and he climbs slowly inside before she practically peels out of the parking lot, rubber slipping on wet asphalt. He looks ridiculously adorable in his hospital issued cotton pajama pants and robe, and for some reason her heart aches for just a split second when she glances over at him while he fiddles with the radio controls.

The rain has stopped and he unrolls the window and hangs his arm outside turning his hand into some sort of aerodynamic shape and lets it climb and drop as the air catches it. She knows where she wants to take him and it's only a ten-minute drive from the hospital but she takes the back streets and drive takes twenty minutes.

She pulls up to the front of her nightclub and he looks outside the window a little unimpressed. She'll admit that the two-story red brick building does look a little unimposing and maybe rundown, but it's all about what's inside. She parks the car and helps him out of the car and onto his crutches.

He asks where they are, but she won't tell him instead she unlocks the heavy iron door and slides it open with a heavy pull. She leads him into the darkened club and flips on the large overhead lights that take forever to cackle to life. Even with the light it's dark as hell inside and the lack of windows is probably to blame for that. They take the tour slowly as he's still getting used to the awkwardness of walking with the aid of two pieces of wood and rubber. She leads him to the bar first and he can see the tiny smile that makes her lips curl upwards as she runs her fingers over the polished oak bar top.

This club is her life, and before the accident it had become a sore spot in her relationship with Lucas. When it was just getting off the ground he used to show up just before closing time and they would play music and dance after the last patron had stumbled out the door in search of a cab. Then it became just another thing to argue about. She spent too much time there, time she should have spent with him. He thought she was avoiding him, but for her the place was just a symbol of the only thing she'd ever done right and for her it was a very big deal.

She ducks quickly behind the bar and hands him over a bottle of water while he rests on one of the stools. She looks small behind a backdrop of glass shelves that nearly reach the ceiling filled with every sort of liquor imaginable. He orders a drink that he knows she'll never make a guy recovering from a head wound just to be a wise ass, and she whips him up a Shirley Temple complete with cherry and a pink umbrella, which he happily sips on.

From his seat on the bar stool she points out the rest of the club. There's a stage for live music, a dance floor, and a cluster of crimson red leather couches on the outskirts of the dance floor. It's simple, but décor doesn't really matter much to people who just want to drink and dance.

"This is a great place Peyton." He says still sipping his Shirley Temple.

"It's probably a lot more impressive when there's a crowd of people in here and the music's shaking the glasses on the bar."

He admires the fire-engulfed bird embossed on the cocktail on the napkin. "What's the bird for?"

"It's a Phoenix from Egyptian mythology. The bird would burn itself to death and then rise out of the ashes as a new Phoenix. I bought this place after a fire had practically gutted the first floor, and spent the few grand my dad had left me and turned it into this. And so came the name Phoenix for the club, I thought it was fitting." It's easy to see how much she loves this place, and Lucas wishes he could remember something he loved that much.

"There's something else I want to show you." She waits for him to get situated on his crutches before leading him to the back of the club and a freight elevator that's hidden behind the stage. She works her magic on the rickety old box and they're up to the second floor after what Lucas decides was the longest elevator ride in his life, at least as far as he can remember.

"This is my home." She sees the look he's giving her. "Well, it will be my home eventually."

There isn't much to the space; it's mainly just a big open area with four red brick walls and a handful of windows but she's got big plans for it.

She walks around the loft waving her arms around showing him where everything's going to be while he watches from afar.

"When do you get to move in?" He asks her once she walks back where he's standing.

"I have to get these wood floors refinished and some electrical work needs to be done, but it's all simple stuff. That's actually the best part of living in a loft I think, it's a huge open space, not much to worry about."

"Thanks for taking me here Peyton." She can tell that he's nervous about something and before she can ask him about it he leans forward and kisses her in what will be the living room.

It's gentle and cautious and he tastes a little like maraschino cherries. He pulls away lightly and traces his tongue over his lips, and before he can say anything she's pulling his lips back onto hers and snaking her arm around his neck.

She wants it so badly to be like it was before, and it almost is, it comes so close. But there's a foreign feeling to it, something is different, but she pushes it aside and pulls him closer.

He isn't the same anymore, neither of them are. Peyton figures they can just be different together.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Peyton hadn't stepped foot in his old bedroom since they were in high school and they would spend most of their time listening out for Karen while they did things that didn't qualify as studying. She's back for a reason that doesn't involve his hand slipping under the hem of her shirt.

When Lucas comes home from the hospital he'll be back living under the same roof as his mother, his doctor and Karen both agreed that it would be best if he lived with her at least for a month or two. Peyton agreed to go over to his apartment and back up a few boxes of his things and lug them back to Karen's.

Packing his stuff takes her an hour longer than she'd anticipated, especially since she spends so much time picking out her favorite t-shirts and running her fingers over the spines of his books. She takes extra care to pack everything he might need. His shampoo and toothbrush, his worn copy of Catcher in the Rye, and the raggedy old bear he's had since he was a kid that he thinks she doesn't know about. She loads it all into the back of her car and drives to Karen's with the windows down and her hand out the window just like he'd done a day before.

The two women spend an hour filling his old dresser drawers with clothes, and when Karen isn't looking she slips his old stuffed bear underneath his pillow. Karen leaves once the last box is unpacked, she has to pick him up from the hospital. When she's gone Peyton goes back out to her car and grabs a roll of paper from her trunk. She hangs the welcome home banner above his bedroom window.

Her stomach turns when she climbs down from the chair and she realizes for the first time that she's nervous about him coming home. Starting over with him in the hospital was different, because somewhere in the back of her mind she'd always hoped that he'd wake up one day and look in her face and remember all the times he'd kissed her and what her bare skin felt like beneath his fingertips. But when he's leaving the hospital and his memory is still gone she realizes that he'll never be the same and she's in love witha stranger.

She walks to the bathroom and splashes handful after handful of cold water onto her face until the feeling in her stomach subsides then she sits on his bed and waits for him to come home. Peyton doesn't realize she's fallen asleep until she hears Karen's car pull up into the driveway. She rubs the sleep from her eyes and goes out to meet them.

When Lucas meets eyes with her after he climbs out of the car he gives her a smile that could have calmed her earlier nerves. She helps him into the house while Karen grabs his small duffel from the trunk and follows them inside.

They all eat dinner together, Chinese takeout containers spread out over the coffee table. He sneaks glances at her over his kung pao, and when she catches him he just smiles and concentrates back on his dinner. Karen notices the pair's exchanges and it reminds her of when they were in high school and Peyton would stay for dinner. They'd grin and flirt across the table while Karen smiled to herself and sipped coffee.

After dinner he makes his way out to the chairs on the back porch and she helps Karen clean up before heading out back to join him. He's slouched down in one of the oversized chairs with his casted foot propped up on an overturned flowerpot. She sits in the empty chair next to him.

It's an unusually warm night for early September, the humidity hangs heavy in the air and her t-shirt has already started to cling to the curves of her skin. She watches the condensation gather on the outside of her glass of iced tea, it runs slowly down the glass and gathers in a puddle on the arm of her chair. They haven't been alone together since he kissed her in the loft.

She thinks it's silly that she's actually a little nervous around him now, it isn't like she hasn't kissed him a thousand times before. It feels like she's back in high school when they first started dating. Even though they'd been friends before they dated, they were still all nervous laughter after they'd kissed the first time.

He breaks the silence first. "I'm glad you've been with me through all of this Peyton. I don't know if I could have done this without you."

"You could have done it Lucas." She says trying to protest her significance.

"No Peyton, don't just brush this off. You being around for all of this, it made me want to get better, you gave me something to work for."

It's not that she doesn't know what to say to him, it's that she doesn't know how to say it without telling him that she loves him and she'd do anything for him. She figures that might freak him out a little, so she reaches out for his hand and intertwines her fingers with his. Before the accident Lucas would have realized the significance of a girl with enormous intimacy issues holding his hand, but he's after the accident Lucas now and he doesn't know she's saying she loves him without any words.

They stare out at the night sky filled with stars made invisible by the glaring streetlights and she's still holding onto his hand and tracing the lines on his palm with the gentle touch of her fingertips.

An hour slips away from them while they're out on the porch and when she catches Lucas trying to stifle a yawn she climbs slowly out of her chair and goes to help him out of his. She helps him up with a grip on both of her arms and when he comes out of the chair his face is suddenly very close to hers.

They both laugh for a minute then he leans forward and kisses her again, this time he's a little bolder and she's not expecting the old Lucas. So the kiss is light and easy and when she giggles into his mouth he pulls back and tucks a loose curl behind her ear.

"I like kissing you" He whispers against her lips. She just laughs and kisses him quick on the corner of his mouth. "Go out with me."

"I'd love to." She breathes out against his stubble-covered cheek.

He pulls away, surprised at how easily she had agreed. She doesn't say anything because she can't keep her lips from his so she falls back onto them and they stay that way until their lips are raw and she can feel his heart racing under her fingertips. Then she helps him into his room and turns around while he changes into his flannel pajama bottoms and helps him get settled into his bed even though he really doesn't need her help all that much anymore.

She tells him goodnight and is about to head out when he catches her wrist and asks her to stay when she twirls back around. He pulls back the comforter next to him in a silent invitation and she hesitates.

In her head she thinks that this is moving too fast, that he's moving too fast. That's how things always were between them. He would push and she would recoil. But when she almost lost him she swore it wouldn't be like that anymore. So she slides in next to him and falls asleep to the gentle rhythm of his breathing.

Karen finds them the next morning, Peyton's curled around his side with her head resting on his chest. She smiles at the sight of them together then trudges back towards the kitchen to start breakfast. It'll be the best night of sleep Peyton's had since the accident.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

* * *

Three weeks pass and summer fades slowly into fall. The days grow shorter and people find themselves rushing out to their yards to catch a glimpse of the brilliant orange sunsets before they fade into the night. Nights get cooler and fallen leaves crunching beneath sets of hurried feet becomes a familiar sound.

Plenty has changed between the two of them in the three weeks that have passed. Lucas finally escaped the plaster restraint that had held his leg, and the cane he'll have to walk with for a few weeks becomes an instant way to annoy people, including Peyton when he pokes at the back of her legs if she manages to get a few steps ahead of him on their walks.

Peyton cut her hours back at the club, opting instead to spend a few nights a week curled up on her couch watching a movie with him or listening to piles of old records that make her think of him, of them.

He works behind the counter at the café, seemingly abandoning the writing career he doesn't even remember he had. The customers smile at him, pat him on the back and tell them how glad they are that he's back on his feet. Lucas usually smiles and thanks them, he doesn't bother to tell them he has no idea who they are, he just appreciates the sentiment.

The sadness that had tugged silently and unnoticed at the corners of her mouth in the weeks after his accident had slowly begun to fade away and when she looks at him she almost doesn't notice the empty ache in her heart for the person he no longer is. She's almost a whole person again.

She still finds herself getting lost in old memories at inopportune moments like when she's helping out behind the bar and someone orders a Jack and Coke, his former drink of choice, or when she comes across a rerun of his favorite television show.

Or when she finds a Stereophonics song playing on the radio while she waits in her car for his physical therapy appointment to finish. Most of the time the memories are good ones that make her smile sadly, sometimes they aren't so great. The same song was playing on the stereo the night of a particularly nasty fight they'd had that involved broken picture frames and plenty of slammed doors when they'd both angrily stormed off to get some fresh air. He had refused to speak to her for three days before she showed up on his doorstep and he pressed her against the hallway walls and made them both feel better.

A gentle rapping on the car window shakes her from her memory, and she looks up to see Lucas leaning on his cane. When she unlocks the door he slides in and she leans over to kiss him and her fingers lightly trace down his neck. He smiles against her lips then pulls back and kisses her softly on the forehead before she throws the car into drive and takes off out of the parking lot.

There is always a nagging feeling at the back of her mind that he'll somehow realize that she's been lying to him about his past and their past and he'll walk away from her again and there won't be any second chances. She was tempted to tell him the truth during his first few weeks of recovery, but she still wanted to believe that he was going to get his memory back and eventually they had become what they are now and there was no turning back.

They wind up at the River Court, parked on a section of grass that is most likely not a space designated for cars but it's close to the edge of the river and it makes her feel like a teenager, doing something she isn't supposed to. She produces a paper bag full of burgers and fries from behind her seat and climbs out of the car.

They kick off their shoes into the grass and slide onto the hood of the expensive, foreign car without any hesitation. They wash down lukewarm french fries with watered down cokes, and watch the sun slowly dip below the horizon with their backs pressed against the windshield.

Eventually the burgers are forgotten when he rolls onto his side and kisses her until she can barely breathe and then he takes her last breath when he runs his fingers down her side until he touches the bare skin that peeks out from under her shirt. He likes the reaction he gets so he slides his hand a little higher under her shirt, and his reward is her grabbing his collar and pulling his lips down harder onto hers. This is a first even for them, getting hot and heavy in a park on the hood of her car.

One new memory to add to his list.

Eventually he pulls away, sweeping a mess of blonde hair from her forehead. "Can I ask you something?" he whispers with his lips pressed against her forehead.

She catches her breath with a satisfied grin and nods her head in an effort to answer his question.

"What were you thinking about in the car earlier, it seemed like you were miles away."

"It was nothing, I just sort of got lost in my thoughts."

"You seem to do that a lot, get lost in your thoughts." His face hovers inches above hers and he forces her to make eye contact with him. "Do I make you happy?"

The question startles her and she sits up too quickly, nearly hitting him in the face. "Where is this coming from?"

"This isn't the first time I've seen you zoned out, it's just the first time I've interrupted you. It's like you have this sadness that you feel you have to hide from me and I can't help but think that I'm the cause of it."

"Lucas it isn't you. There are just things from my past that I still need to work out and it's going to take some time. But you do make me happy Lucas, you make me really happy." She sees a smile peek across his lips and she slides across the hood to get closer to him. She kisses him sweetly while wrapping her arms around his neck and eventually she feels her back touch the windshield again.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**A/N: **I'm not sure how many chapters of this fic I have left, four at the most. So I hope these last chapters satisfy everyone who's been following this. I apologize for the long wait, I'm trying to get updates out sooner.

* * *

After bowling alley's, endless nights at the movie theater, and ferris wheel rides at the carnival that swept through town, they have their eleventh (not that she's counting) date at her apartment for a low-key dinner. It isn't her ideal choice of locations since her apartment is cluttered with bulky, brown moving boxes while she's in the process of moving into her loft, but it's the only place they can be alone so it works.

She cooks, it's nothing special but the sounds of the saucepan as it sizzles to life and the warm smell that invades her kitchen are therapeutic for her. Work has been hell, and for a brief moment she found herself getting pulled back in to late nights that turned into early morning hours, but she had promised herself that things would be different with him this time around so she hired on an assistant manager without a second thought.

They eat dinner at her kitchen table and sit close enough that their knees touch under the table. When he talks about work at the café she absentmindedly lets her hand rest on his thigh and he forgets what he was going to say next. He reaches forward to pulls her chair closer to him until they bump together and then he kisses her while his hands roam under her white, cotton shirt.

She stifles a groan onto his shoulder when his hands find the right spot on the small of her back. Whispering in his ear that they can clean up later she pulls him from his chair and they stagger towards her bedroom.

When she slides onto the bed her feet no longer touch the floor and the feeling jars her for just a moment, she looks back up to meet his eyes and sees that he's backed away from her.

"What's the matter?" She asks while trying to catch her breath.

"I don't really remember how to do this." He smiles sheepishly, unable to meet her eyes.

"We'll just take things slow, and I promise to be gentle." She laughs when she sees a wide grin spread across his face. Reaching forward she grabs the front of his shirt tightly in her fists and pulls him forward and down onto her lips.

They fall backwards onto the bed and she bites her lower lip when he settles his weight on top of her and hangs his head low between his shoulders so his mouth hovers inches above hers. When she grows impatient of his teasing she sits up and strips off the t-shirt she's been wearing, he starts to follow suit but she grabs his hands to stop him and instead pulls the shirt off for him, allowing her nails to graze the sides of his body.

His breath is hot on her already warm flesh, and the sticky circles he leaves behind on her neck make her melt further into the mattress. She tries not to think about what's different, tries not to remember the way it used to feel when his fingers traced up the length of her leg. It isn't fair to him that she's constantly comparing him against a man he doesn't even know, a man he used to be but for her it's inevitable.

She tries to purge the thoughts from her mind by concentrating on the way that his lips feel as they tremble slightly against hers. She helps him remove the denim jeans and the belt that is pressing into her thigh, and while he tries to kick them off at his feet her fingers find the white, raised scar that outlines the inside curve of his muscular shoulder. She traces the line with the tips of her fingers while he watches with baited breath, then she raises her head and peppers the pale outline with gentle kisses pressed tightly to his warm skin.

When her fingers find the thicker scar behind his hairline, a jagged reminder of what he has lost and the effect it has had on both of their lives, she kisses his temple to heal them both.

A look of breathless anticipation crosses his face and kiss and his touch become faster, more urgent. When his lips leave her mouth she breathlessly whispers that there are condoms in her bedside table. He leans across her and rummages in the drawer while she leaves miniscule nip marks with her teeth along the tanned skin of his collarbone.

Too much time passes and the rummaging stops, it doesn't worry her until she feels his body tense on top of her own. She looks over and when she sees the item he's holding in her hand she feels instantly sick. A silver frame holding a picture of the pair on the day they graduated from high school, kissing each other against a backdrop of fireworks and airborne mortarboards. She'd tossed it in a drawer the first time he'd visited the apartment after the accident, a forgotten frame was going to destroy everything.

"What is this?" his voice is shaky and barely audible.

"Lucas, I can explain."

He lifts himself off of her and begins to pace angrily near the edge of the bed. "You told me we never knew each other, if that's true than what and the hell is that picture all about."

"We were together for two years before your accident." She knows he won't take the news well, so when he starts to throw his clothes on she isn't surprised but she still tries to plead with him to listen to her.

"You lied to me Peyton, all this time you've had chance after chance to tell me the truth. I thought I had fallen in love with this amazing girl who made my life so much better after everything that's happened, and now I know that you've been lying to me for months." He slips on his shoes and turns back to her figure still sitting on the bed. "I have to get out of here." He slams the bedroom door and seconds later she hears the front door click shut.

His angry exit eerily reminds her of the last time he stormed out. She doesn't waste time crying over what's just happened. Instead she dresses quickly and runs out of the apartment.

She won't let him go again.


	11. Chapter 11

**We Might As Well Be Strangers**

**Chapter 11**

A/N: One more chapter to go.

* * *

She doesn't realize she's forgotten her shoes until she feels the tiny pebbles beneath her feet.

Her heart is pounding wildly against her chest as she races down the sidewalk to catch up with him. She never was much of a runner. He got a sizable head start on her, and when she first started running he was a small speck on the horizon. She's catching up though.

When she's close enough to hear the sound of his feet shuffling along the ground she calls out his name, it's desperate, pleading and her lungs burn so badly that she almost can't finish the two syllables.

He doesn't turn around, doesn't even acknowledge that she's behind him. He just keeps walking with his head down and hands shoved angrily into the pockets of his jeans. She speeds up a little and ignores the stinging pain that's coming from the torn up soles of her feet.

"Lucas can you stop, please?" She's close enough to grab hold of his elbow and stop him in his tracks, but her heel catches a piece of broken glass and she sinks to the ground holding her foot and cursing the green shard lodged in her skin.

As she pulls the small shard from her foot, she grits her teeth hard and doesn't notice that he's at her side suddenly crouching down low to get a look at the wound. She's dripping tiny, red dots onto the cool gray concrete and she's muttered the word fuck under her breath so many time that it seems to have lost its potency.

"Where the hell are your shoes?" He says with a volatile mix of anger and frustration.

"I forgot them." She winces as she pokes and prods the bloody hole in her heel with her fingertips.

"That was stupid." He says bluntly.

"I was trying to catch up with you."

"I thought I made it pretty clear I didn't want you to follow me." He says, getting to his feet and pacing the short distance in front of her, pausing briefly to run his fingertips angrily across his scalp.

"I just want to explain everything." She says softly as she climbs gingerly to her feet, keeping her bleeding heel inches above the ground.

He watches her hobble around on her good foot, and can't help but shake his head at her stubbornness. "Go home Peyton."

"I'm not going anywhere until you let me explain this." Before she knows what's happening he scoops her up off her feet and starts to head back in the direction of her apartment building, ignoring her protests and the way her arms feel as they're looped tightly around his neck.

He refuses to set her down until they're inside the apartment, which made climbing the flight of stairs outside her building all the more difficult. He lets her down gently and her heel touches the pristine white carpet. She stares at the bright red splotch it leaves behind, brilliant red against white and realizes that she's never going to get her deposit back.

"I just need a bandage or a towel, please don't leave until I get back." She stares at him with hopeful eyes before limping down the hall towards the bathroom. She's almost grateful that he waits a few minutes until she's in the bathroom with her feet swung into the empty bathtub to make his hasty exit. She pours the hydrogen peroxide over the cut on her foot and it bubbles and fizzes, dripping pink foam into the tub.

The peroxide stings a little and her eyes well up with unshed tears, she doesn't know if they're from the sting or because of what's happened tonight.

Later, when she hobbles down the hallway with her heel held closed with a butterfly bandage she'd found in an ancient first aid kit, she finds the post-it note stuck to the front door. She peels it from the door and her eyes scan the note, his angular print asking for time alone to figure things out, away from her. She crumples the yellow note and drops it near her feet, then walks back to her bedroom and climbs beneath the sheets that still smell like his soap.

She makes it three days without calling, before she has one drink too many while closing up the club and leaves a long-winded message on the voicemail of his cell phone that she wishes she could erase in the morning. When she wakes the next morning on the couch in her living room with a massive hangover and no recollection of how she wound up at home, she spots her cell next to the half-empty bottle of cheap wine. The last three numbers called are his, all of them within ten minutes of the other. She kind of wants to die, at least then she'd be rid of the hangover.

She cleans up the small mess on her coffee table, strips her clothes off and stands under the shower head until the hot water has turned the pale skin on her arms a fiery shade of red. Long after her shower has ended she sits on the edge of her bed with a towel wrapped around her mid-section and her blonde curls dripping water down her back, her cell phone tightly in her hand.

Peyton dials the familiar phone number and listens to it ring once, twice, five times. He's checking his caller i.d.. The phone turns over into voicemail and she takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry for calling you last night. I had too much to drink, and this is all really embarrassing for me and I'm sorry that you have to deal with all of this. I know that you asked for time alone, and I want to respect that. When you're ready to talk, if you're ever ready to talk, I'll be here."

Another week passes without a word from him; she goes back to her normal routines, working late nights at the club, ignoring the fact that the only messages in her voicemail are from Haley and solicitors. She moves into her loft, carting loads of moving boxes packed into the back seat of her car across town. It only takes her a few days to get everything unpacked, which is one of the few pluses to not technically having a boyfriend. She misses him, but she keeps busy knowing that if she slows down for even a minute it will all overwhelm her again.

Her ears are ringing from the last set of the night. She's surprised she still has her hearing after endless nights in an enclosed space with live music pumping aggressively from speakers. The last customers make their way out of the club and into the cool night air. Her best bartender ran off to Vegas to get married by Elvis, so she stays later than usual wiping down the bar and picking up empty glasses.

She gets bored with the chores so she wanders over towards the jukebox filled with an eclectic mix of everything and flips through the stack of music twice. When she turns back towards the bar he's standing there in a black hooded sweatshirt and her favorite pair of jeans.

"I'm ready to talk."


	12. Chapter 12

**We Might As Well Be Strangers**

**A/N: So this is the last chapter of this fic. Thanks to everyone who has stuck with this from the beginning. I have some new one-parters coming up so look for those soon. **

**Chapter 12 **

When she first sees him, his hands thrust into his pockets and a weeks worth of stubble dusting his cheeks, she has to strongly resist the urge to wrap her arms around him and bury her face in his neck.

He says he wants to talk in a voice that's completely void of any emotion, and Peyton feels her heart rate quicken in a way that isn't good.

She leads him up to her loft, the silence between them looming heavily as the elevator hums and grinds its way to her floor.

When they step into her loft she drops her keys onto the table near the door and slips the coat from her shoulders then drapes it over the back of her favorite armchair. Goosebumps trail up her arms as soon she's rid of the coat, she likes to keep the loft cold even in the dead of winter because since she was a girl she's preferred to be bundled up under blankets, finding solace in the warmth of a pile of blankets.

"Can I get you something to drink?" She asks, staring at his back as he skims his fingers over her record collection. "Coffee, water, I think there's some soda."

"No, I'm fine." He shakes off the offer, choosing instead to pace in front of her couch running his fingers through closely cropped hair.

"Why are you here Lucas?" She already knows the answer, but she needs him to say it.

He takes a deep breath and plops down onto the sofa. "I want to know everything, why you lied, who we were, everything."

"In that case, I'm going to need a drink." She says quietly before excusing herself to the kitchen. She's suddenly very grateful for the wooden partition that hides the kitchen from the open expanse of the loft, as she slips behind it and rummages through her surprisingly small liquor cabinet and comes out with a bottle of whiskey that Lucas used to love. She pours herself a glass listening as the ice cracks and snaps angrily. She finds a different kind of solace in the warmth the whiskey provides as it slowly makes its way down to her belly.

She slides up onto the counter, her bare feet dangling high above the wooden floors, and rolls the half empty glass in her open palms letting her rings click loudly against the sides. She goes over a script in her head trying to find a way to tell her side of the story without him storming out, she knows that if the situation were reversed she wouldn't be nearly as calm as he appears to be.

She downs the rest of the amber liquid and leaves the empty glass on her kitchen counter before walking back into the living room with a renewed sense of courage, thanks in large part to the double whiskey that is still tingling at the back of her throat.

She sits on the opposite end of the couch, staring intently at her hands as she crosses and uncrosses her fingers. "I never intended for you to find out they way you did, and to be honest you weren't supposed to find out at all. I know that that probably isn't what you wanted to hear but I'm laying it all out for you now. No more lies."

He shakes his head and finally looks her in the eyes. "Okay" he says softly.

"After your accident the doctors told us that there was a small chance that you might get your memory back, two percent is the number they gave us. But if we wanted to put stock in those odds we had to follow certain rules, the most important being that we couldn't attempt to jog your memory. They were afraid that that pressure for you to remember would only further suppress your memories. You had just woken up from a coma with no idea who I was and it destroyed me Lucas, so I agreed to become a stranger to you just to hold onto the hope that someday you might wake up and remember your life, our life. I know I hurt you, but you have to believe me when I say that I thought it was my only choice."

"Why didn't you just tell me the truth, it's been three months. You could have told me the truth."

"When we had to start over again I had to take the chance that you wouldn't fall for me again, but when you fell I fell even harder. It felt right, like the way we should have done it the first time around. We just happened so fast that by the time I could slow down and think about the lie, I was afraid that if I told you the truth that you wouldn't understand. And now here we are, exactly where I didn't want us to be."

"So where does that leave us?" He asks, and she's never been so relieved to hear him say 'we'. She's suddenly hopeful again.

"It's up to you Luke, what happens now. But you have to know that I would never hurt you again. Losing you made me realize that my life is nothing if I don't have someone I love in it. And you are that person Lucas. I love you and I need you." Her gentle voice is pleading desperately with him to forgive her.

When he says that he needs more time she feels defeated, when he stands to leave defeat is replaced with hopelessness. "I'm sorry Peyton." He leans down to kiss the top of her head before slipping quietly out of the door.

After he leaves she paces the loft, wanting desperately to open the door and chase after him. She sees the irony in the fact that this all started because she pushed him away, and now she wants nothing more than to hold onto him and never let go. She takes one last walk to the heavy sliding door of her loft and rests her forehead on the cool metal.

She hears his hurried footsteps before he starts to pound on the door. When she slides open the door he's standing in the hallway looking anxious and out of breath.

"I've been standing out in the hallway for fifteen minutes trying to walk away, but I can't do it Peyton. I don't want to do it." He lunges forward, catching her face in his hands and kisses her until the stubble on his cheeks have turned hers red. When he pulls his lips away, she wraps her slender fingers around his wrists and keeps him close. "How about a fresh start?" He breathes against her skin.

She kisses him again, and she doesn't think about the old Lucas or whether his kiss feels the way it used to. It doesn't matter to her anymore. She has him, and she won't lose him again.

Three months later when he asks her to marry him, she doesn't hesitate with her answer.

_fin _


End file.
